Ants

In the yard. I run a youth hostel and Europeans are staying.

Collecting wood to burn in the fireplace. On one piece of wood some fabric has got tangled on a nail. A guest from Oslo tells me his shirt got caught. I tell him he is not the first Scandinavian to get caught up.

Checking the health of the plants. I am about to leave for Vegas. Gina has left a note asking when the plants should be watered.

I write: "If the plants wilt, water them."

I write: "If the ground is dry, water them."

The end of June. I contemplate direct-seeding lettuce and starting some indoors. I conclude whoever waters the yard is unlikely to do it well enough to nurture new seed.

In Vegas on a futon with someone's wife. We are on our backs under a comforter.

We are at a show.

We are on a beach.

To my right is a flight of steps. Showgirls walk up the steps like they have just got off stage. It amuses me that such tall women are walking past when I am laying down since it makes them appear even taller.

Standing by the woman who is sitting. She wears a yellow bikini. A lifeguard comes over and starts to make out with the woman. He stops and points to a mark below her knee. He pokes, then squeezes the mark. Ants crawl out. They are breeding under the woman's skin. The ants get larger until the Mother ant, a snakelike creature the size of a pen, comes out of the woman's leg. The woman seems unconcerned.